Strangers Wth Familiar Faces
by aikakone
Summary: New beginnings happen in the most unexpected of places. When a mature Ron Weasley meets Fleur Delacour by surprise in a Muggle coffee shop, he has his first chance to find out who the woman who was his teenage crush actually is.
1. A Chance Encounter

He'd had that nightmare again, the one with the tap dancing spiders. Ron sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Even this nightmare was familiar, and after all that he'd seen in his life it didn't feel like a nightmare any more. It was much like a chronic illness, he mused. When a person is sick so long and finally becomes well, even that feels strange because the enduring feeling of discomfort, even though one _knows_ it's discomfort, has started to feel normal.

That was a summary of things in his life. Things had been wrong so long that he was used to the pain. He didn't have Harry or Hermione any more. Oh, they were _alive_. It wasn't anything as mundane as death. They were just together with each other and not with him. Somehow their trio had shrunk to a duo, and he was shoved out of the picture.

He'd always thought of Hermione as his, so when she chose Harry over him, he was fundamentally shocked. It was like her, though, and Ron thought he should have read the signs. She'd been enamored with Lockhart, had dated Viktor Krum and had chosen Harry, the hero, in the end.

He'd gone into the newspaper trade after Hogwarts. The origins had probably begun in his third year when Ron had researched Buckbeak's defense for Hagrid. With a friend like Hermione, he couldn't avoid research, either. It was his friendship and short romantic relationship with his neighbor, Luna, that had been the official catalyst for his work in newspapers. As it was for his work, he had several contacts with both Wizards and Muggles.

Ron got out of bed and dressed himself in Muggle clothing. Today he was to meet a Muggle in downtown London for an interview on banking and the European Union. He was writing piece on the impact of Muggle politics on the Wizard economy.

He looked at himself in the mirror critically. He wasn't vain by any stretch of the imagination, but as an adult he worked hard to wear clothing that actually looked good on him. He didn't have a maroon thing in his closet any more. He was satisfied with his Muggle appearance in charcoal grey trousers and a navy blue dress shirt. Ron Weasley Apparated out of his small flat to his meeting in London.

* * *

When his work was over in the early afternoon, Ron walked the streets of Muggle London not paying attention to the people around him. It hadn't been a bad day so far, not really, but it had been tedious. He just wanted time to clear his head.

One of his Muggle contacts had turned him on to the wonders of coffee of all shapes, sizes and flavors. It was very different than pumpkin juice at Hogwarts or even tea, but he took an immediate liking to it. Ever since that time, on the days when he was working on Muggle-related business, Ron often indulged himself by at stop at the trendy and often busy coffee shop. He'd described it to his family as the Three Broomsticks or the Leaky Cauldron for Muggles.

He'd brought with him his work things. His plan was to order a coffee and sit in the comfy chairs upstairs while writing-with a pen-the sketches for the article. With that in mind, he ducked into the store. Being such a tall man, he almost did literally have to duck to get into the building.

Standing in the queue, Ron pondered his order. He wanted something strong and stout that could last a long time, like the coffee version of dark chocolate. When his order had been completed and he paid with the acceptable British Muggle money, he stepped away from the rest and looked out for a place to sit and work.

"_Café au lait, s'il vous plait_," he heard a soft, feminine voice near him say.

Ron rolled his eyes at the sound of someone ordering in French. He knew this coffee shop was trendy, but if there was one thing he couldn't abide, it was a poser. He turned back to look at the person he'd already decided was an obnoxious twit, and he stopped to stare with his mouth gaping.

Ron Weasley was looking into the face of Fleur Delacour. Her silvery blonde veela-quality hair was on top of her head, contained inside a wide-brimmed hat she was wearing. The brim of the hat acted like a fame to her face, emphasizing more her lovely complexion and delicate bone structure. When she looked directly at him, he snapped out of his daze.

"Fleur!" he exclaimed.

To that, she gave a closed-mouth smile at him. "I was standing behind you, but you did not notice me," she said in slow, evenly-metered English.

He reddened. "I was thinking about work. Your English, it sounds very good!"

"_Merci!" _she said with a perverse twinkle in her eye.

Ron continued to ogle her because he was honestly surprised to see her. "I supposed Bill helped you with that."

"'E 'elped a little," she said, momentarily slipping in her speech, "but zat was a long time ago."

"Indeed," Ron conferred with a nod. The relationship with Fleur and Bill had lasted only a year and a half before they went their separate ways.

"And you?" she asked. "It has also been a long time. Do you have many babies with that witch? 'Ermione, I think her name was."

"Hermione," he corrected automatically. "No, she's with Harry now,and they will probably have a boy and girl and name them James and Lily."

"Ah, Harry," she said reflectively, this time pronouncing the initial H. "He was good to my sister."

Ron studied her while he took a sip of his drink. "Fleur, would you like to sit with me?" He figured it might be a long-shot for her to accept, but he was no longer a fourteen year old boy with a crush on a seventeen year old French veela.

"_Oui!_" she answered with a look of surprise at herself that she'd accepted.

He put his free hand on her elbow to steady her as they walked upstairs to find a pair of free seats. Once there, they luckily found some by the window that were just being vacated by a laughing and kissing couple. Ron looked at them suspect, while Fleur waited.

Ron did a gallant bow, and pulled out the seat for Fleur. She laughed at his gesture, and the sound fell on his ears like tinkling bells.

He tried to remember if he'd heard the sound before when he'd briefly known her at Hogwarts. He thought that he hadn't, and even though she'd dated Bill, Ron didn't have much contact with her after the Tri-Wizard Tournament was over. He'd been too busy with the War to think of her, not that it would have been an appropriate action to have thoughts for his older brother's girlfriend.

When he sat down, Ron realized with stark terror that he just didn't know what to say to Fleur. It was easy to make shallow references to the past, but what did he actually know about her? Looking over at her while the silence grew, he saw that she was looking out the window at the Muggles walking on the street below.

"You have lovely bones," he said, speaking out loud the first thought that clearly formed in his head.

Fleur turned her eyes away from the window to Ron. "Thank you," she said with grace. After a moment of silence, she voiced her own assessment. "I see you are no longer a little boy."

"No," he said with his brow wrinkling in consternation. He might not be a boy in years, but when she spoke, he felt nearly as embarrassed as the one he had been when he'd asked her for a date to the Yule Ball.

"I work at the _Daily Prophet_ now," he said, setting his work case on the edge of the table. "You know about papers after your year as Beauxbatons Champion."

"I 'ope you write better than that woman," Fleur said in distaste, meaning Rita Skeeter.

"Anyone can write better than she can," Ron said, "but yes, I do well."

"So tell me what you are writing now," she invited, again using a slow and studied English delivery.

"It's about money and politics," he said with a grimace in case she wasn't interested in hearing the extremely minute details.

She nodded in appreciation. "Most things in this word are about exactly zat! I still work at Gringott's, and it never changes."

"Bill hasn't mentioned you," Ron said. When he realized his words could be taken offensively, he backtracked. "What I mean is, he hasn't told us that he still worked with you."

"We don't work together. It is no matter," Fleur dismissed. "Tell me about you instead."

He studied her face as if looking for clues. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"_Oui!_" she answered with a curt nod.

Ron took a large drink of his over-priced coffee before starting. When he was ready, he plowed ahead, telling her about his job and the interview he'd had that day. It was three hours and four coffees for Ron before either of them checked that time had passed.

A young couple walked by Ron and Fleur's table, bumping into them as they went. The pair only giggled over their shoulders and made shallow apologies. Instead of being philosophical about wishing he was in a relationship, Ron looked at his watch and gasped when he saw the time.

"Fleur, I must go! I have a deadline and a story to finish," he further explained.

"I wish you to write well," she answered.

"I will! It was nice to discuss this with you," said Ron appreciatively. "Talking to you has helped me sort out my thoughts before I write them."

"I will be sure to read what you have written, Mr. Weasley," she said, looking softly up at him.

He laughed and grinned so much a small dimple appeared. "Thank you," he said.

Ron held out his hand to Fleur so they could leave the table. Together they walked downstairs and out of the coffee shop.

At the door of the shop, she stopped Ron, saying, "It has been a pleasure. I should like to do this again."

Ron realized, even if only to satisfy curiosities that had appeared, that he wanted the very same thing. In the event, though, that she changed her mind, he felt he should attempt to tell her one last thing.

"I didn't know you then," he said honestly, looking away from Fleur. "You were only a face to me, not a real person. I think this is the first time for me to really talk to you. You aren't who I thought you were."

Smiling enigmatically, she said, "None of us ever really is. It is mystique."

Ron didn't voice another opinion on his or Fleur's mystique. They were standing outside on the concrete street with strange looking Muggles of all kinds walking around them. When one rough looking man walked by them, staring lasciviously at Fleur, Ron instinctually put his hand on her hip and protectively pulled her closer to him.

He immediately stammered and apology. "I know you can protect yourself. I just didn't like how he looked at you."

"It is," she said with a sigh, "my curse. It has happened my whole life."

"It doesn't make it right," Ron grumbled.

A gust of wind suddenly came by them, making Fleur grasp her hat in surprise. Ron studied her before deciding to remove the hat. He took away the hat and several hair pins, releasing her silvery-blonde hair to tumble freely down her back.

He gaped at her with an open mouth as he stared at her hair. "I'm looking at you like that, aren't I?" he asked once he realized it.

She nodded her assent and then took her hat out of his hands. Placidly she looked right back at Ron.

As he looked at her, he felt an unmistakably strong desire enter him. Giving in to his primal urge, Ron plunged his hands into her hair. He closed his eyes and sighed in gratification because it felt as soft and cool as he knew it would. He rested the top of his head near hers as he reveled in the sensation.

Never in his imaginings would Ron have honestly expected Fleur's next course of action. She stood on her toes and leaned into him to give him a soft kiss on the lips. Fleur softly teased him by tugging at his lower lip with her mouth, and then she slowly pulled away.

Ron kept his eyes closed as if trying to imprint every detail of the small kiss into his memory forever. His own lips were open in a soft pouting round shape that begged to be kissed again, but Fleur did not kiss him again. She waited until he opened his dazed eyes and looked at her.

Ron released the breath he was holding. "That was nice," he said while he respectfully took a step back from her.

"Maybe there will be others," she said appreciatively. "In time."

He ran his fingers through his red hair and looked at her while trying to figure out what to do next. He needed to write his article, but Ron wanted to see her again.

"Tuesday?" he questioned. "Will you have coffee with me again on Tuesday?"

Fleur smiled her small smile again. "Yes. I shall." She gave him a gracious nod before leaving him to be absorbed into the London crowd.

Ron reached up to lightly touch his lips. He smiled with incredulity. This was not what he had expected for his day when he had awoken from dreams of tap dancing spiders. He moved into the swarm of people, thinking beyond the article he had to write today to the coffee he would have with Fleur on Tuesday.


	2. Tuesday

**TUESDAY**

_Tuesday!_

Ron Weasley awoke with everything on alert. He had so much energy he felt like the frenetic squirrels in the park that scurry from acorn to acorn and can't decide which one they want. It was Tuesday, and he would finally be able to have coffee with Fleur again.

_Get a grip on yourself, man,_ he reminded himself. It wasn't a date; it was two acquaintances having coffee. Okay, so he was more than curious to get to know her better, but it wasn't a date. Despite the surprising kiss she'd given him a few days ago, there wasn't anything romantic between them. Though he had noticed her before his brother did, it would be weird to have romantic leanings toward one of Bill's ex-girlfriends. Just how would he justify that to him?

Even without the confusion of the thoughts running through his head, Ron was distracted when trying to choose what to wear to work. His afternoon coffee would have to be immediately afterwards with no time for him to change. He finally settled on a combination of hunter green trousers and a royal blue shirt. With his vivid red hair and blue eyes, a blue shirt was usually the best choice.

Ron took an assessing look around his one room flat as if it would look different when he came back from coffee with Fleur. In one corner behind a privacy partition was his bed. Opposite of that was his sofa, a coffee table and his bookshelf, which in addition to books held his wizard chess set, omnioculars, mobile figure of Viktor Krum, and a crystal ball that Luna had given him on a lark because she said he had a Seer's talent. Behind his sofa was a writing desk, his kitchen area, and a small inconspicuous bathroom.

At his door, he took his Chudley Cannon's hat off the coat rack and slapped it on his head. It didn't match the ensemble at all, but he was still Ron Weasley. He might not play the game anymore, but the passion for it would always be a part of him.

-&-

When Ron got to the newspaper office, it was in the same state of chaos as any other day. He found that he thrived on the excitement most of the time. He was good at what he did, and he knew it. He quickly found his desk and began his work, all the while whistling jauntily to himself.

Colin Creevey sauntered over and leaned against his desk. "You have a hot date, Weasley?" he asked.

Ron looked up with a smug expression. "Just hot coffee. Now get your arse off my desk!"

"Whatever you say, but let me give you a little warning," Creevey said with his normal amount of gushing enthusiasm, especially in the area of gossip. "Stay clear of Farnham. He's not in a good mood today."

Ron rolled his eyes at his once housemate. "Farnham is never in a good mood, so like I said--get your arse off my desk and go away."

Colin shrugged his shoulders. "You've been warned." He finally left Ron and went to talk with some of the other witches and wizards in the office.

After that, Ron got a good hour of work in without disturbance. Creevey hadn't returned to pester him, and the editor hadn't been by to display the particularly bad mood he supposedly had that day. The relative calm of the start of the day lulled the red head into a sense of comfort and ease that was soon shattered.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron and the rest of his coworkers heard his name yelled across the newspaper office.

He looked up from his desk to find the red face of Mr. Farnham, his boss. Farnham was cut from the same cloth as any other newspaper editor the world over. He had a quick temper, barked out his orders, and probably suffered high blood pressure. As such, he was a caricature of a person in Ron's mind, so the reporter made an ugly face at whatever the boss's newest demand might be.

"I saw that!" the man shouted. "Get yourself in my office this instant!"

Ron picked up his parchment and quill, navigating the jungle of desks on his way to the office at the end of the long room. Some of the other writers were busy with their own work, but a few paused to snicker as he passed.

Near the water cooler, Colin spoke up in a sing-song voice. "I told you!"

"Stuff it, Creevey!" Ron said before entering the editor's office.

When Ron made it inside the office, he looked around at all that signaled stress and vice, thinking about the fact that all men had some need, whether legal or illicit. He remembered from his Hogwarts days that Albus Dumbledore's needs were more of the sugar variety. Jack Farnham had his vices, too, and they couldn't be anything typical, either.

The editor could have smoked or drank alcohol; that would have been perfectly acceptable for a man in his position. It might even be less dangerous for his employees than his current proclivity. As it was, the man liked to throw darts as a way to relieve his stress, and he wasn't above taking aim at Ron or any of his coworkers.

"Weasley, where is the Barnes article?" he asked as he balanced a dart in his hand.

"I handed it in to you two days ago, sir," Ron informed him politely.

"I need you to redo it. What you wrote wasn't good enough for owl cage lining," he said with a grunt as he threw his dart. "You seem to have forgotten that you work for the _Daily Prophet _and not the _Quibbler_."

"Oh, I could never forget that," Ron muttered. Aloud he asked, "Do you have my previous copy with any edits, sir?"

Farnham aimed another dart at the board on the wall behind Ron's head. "I suggest most of it gets scrapped."

Something in his tone made Ron turn to see the tattered remains of his article affixed to the dart board. When he realized what it was, he felt angry about the boss's stupid question as to the location of the article when he'd been using it for target practice.

"Is there anything else, sir?" Ron asked with impatience.

"Yes, one more thing, Weasley," he said as he attempted to throw a hat trick. "You're a friend of Harry Potter's, aren't you?"

"'Was' is the better term," Ron said as he stood and shuffled from foot to foot.

"Ah! So you do know him!" he said with glee. "Then you can fix this article of Mason's in an hour, after you're done fixing that horrid mess of the Barnes article."

"Sir," Ron said testily though still trying to keep a professional front, "shouldn't Mason be fixing his own article? That's what you pay him to do."

"He should, but he's not. _You_ are going to do it," Farnham informed him, "and _he_ is going to get the writing credit for it."

"That's because Mason couldn't write himself out of a wet tissue even if he had one of Rita Skeeter's Quick Quotes Quills!" Ron said with a low growl.

"That's right, but we don't pay him to write well. That's your job, Weasley. We pay Mason to look good and get us readers."

"And the fact that he's your wife's nephew has nothing to do with it at all," Ron said looking at the ceiling. "Nepotism doesn't exist in this office."

Farnham walked to the door to retrieve his darts and said a very placid, "Of course not. That just wouldn't be fair." When he turned to face Ron, he had a smirk on his face.

"What is this article supposed to be about?"

"Oh, the usual, but since you knew him spice it up with something we haven't read yet." That seemed to be the end until he added with the forgetful air of an afterthought, "And don't forget to include his bits about his recent professional Quidditch career and upcoming wedding to Hermione Granger."

Ron choked at the mention. "They're getting married?"

"He's your friend, Weasley. You should know that," the editor admonished lightly.

"Right. Well, I'll get on it," Ron said after verifying what other bits were supposed to go in this article that Gideon Mason was supposed be writing.

-&-

It took Ron forty-five minutes to complete the revision of the Barnes article. When he'd brought it to Farnham's office, he still didn't like it and asked for a third copy. Then he burned up what Ron had done and said he had twenty minutes to get him one he could use.

Grumbling all the way, Ron gave dictation to his quill making the article a shambles of either version that he'd proposed. It looked like uneducated tripe in his opinion, but the boss loved it. He sighed at such low standards and went back to his desk to work on the real torture implement for the day, an article about the great War hero Harry Potter and his upcoming nuptials to Miss Hermione Granger.

He sat staring at his empty desk for a long time wondering why he didn't know about the wedding. The slight made him angrier and angrier by the minute. He should have been Harry's best man because they'd been best friends. Instead, he was only aware of the change in events because of his boss.

It was hard to be objective in his article, but Ron remembered he was supposed to be writing as the charming Gideon Mason, the well-traveled reporter. Mason was just as fake and just as popular as Gilderoy Lockhart had been.

Near the end of the day, Colin came prancing back to Ron's desk. "When you get done with your coffee, why don't you come to the pub? A few of us are going for drinks."

"I plan on being busy," Ron said tiredly, "and not with the likes of you."

"The offer's still open," Colin said with a smile as his giggly girlfriend came over to them.

"What's that about?" Vanessa asked as she looked at the long parchment in Ron's hands.

"It's Gideon Mason's new article on Harry Potter and his wedding," he said with clenched teeth.

"Oh, that Mason is to die for!" she said giggling even more.

"Right," Ron said in dismissal, wishing the idiot girl and her bothersome boyfriend would disappear. "I'll just be about turning this in to Jack."

As he walked through the desks for one of the last times that day, Ron was concentrating on getting the offending article out of his hands so he could leave and go see Fleur. Maybe he'd get a moment's joy in a day that was turning sour. When he bumped into a desk and a full jar of ink spilled all over the front of his trousers, he realized that might have been too much to ask for. He sighed deeply and tried to keep the goal of getting to Farnham's office in mind.

"Stand right there, Weasley," Farnham shouted as one of his darts landed at Ron's feet. "Hand it over."

Ron looked at the small weapon on the floor and gave his boss the parchment without looking at his face. Instead, he heard the other man's grunts and murmurs as he read it.

"This is good work, Weasley. Award winning work. Too bad you'll never be the one to get credit for it," he said as he nodded his head back to the gathered trophies and honors that Gideon Mason had won the newspaper.

"Anything else, sir?" Ron asked in a low voice.

"My dart?" he asked so Ron could pick it up. "Thank you. You're dismissed."

-&-

Ron left the newspaper office as soon as he could because he wanted that part of his day to just end and die a gruesome death. He tried to focus on the positive and Apparated as close to the coffee shop as he could get without drawing Muggle attention. While on a normal day, that was close, this particular Tuesday didn't fit that category. While he hadn't actually set a specific time to meet Fleur, he'd assumed they would meet at the same time as their accidental meeting of the last week. He raced to the shop, hoping that he had not missed the French witch entirely.

He hadn't, Ron noted as he saw Fleur leaving the front door alone.

"Fleur! Fleur!" he shouted and waved to get her attention. Finally, he'd be able to see her and get some peace out of this day.

Or he could be wrong, Ron thought, as she turned to him with a look that emasculated most men.

"Vhere vere you?" she asked as more of an accusation, the angry note in her voice bringing her French accent into notice.

"I was working," he huffed as if he were winded.

"I don't 'ave time for your stupid liittle boy games," she snarled. "Iif you did not vant to come, you should not 'ave asked me!"

"Fleur," Ron said as he tried to reason with her, "it's not my fault!"

"_Non!"_ she said, shaking her head as if to clear out all imprints of his voice. "I 'ave a date with a real man, not a liittle boy 'oo cannot keep 'is promises!"

Fleur brushed past Ron with an aura full of scorn, leaving him feeling not for the first time today that the universe was conspiring against him.

"Come back! You don't understand!" he yelled, but it was a futile attempt at getting her attention.

He stared dumbly at the door to the coffee shop, but then Ron decided he didn't want coffee at all any more. His taste was for much stouter stuff and lots of it. This was one of those days that deserved getting pissed into next week. He'd go find Creevey at the pub and drink him under the table.

-&-

Several hours later Fleur Delacour looked at the insipid smile of the man in front of her, and she felt so bored that she might fall into a coma at any moment. The cretin just kept talking and talking and would not shut up. His droning was momentarily halted when Fleur accidentally dropped her fork, and it clattered all over her plate.

"Is there anything wrong, Fleur?" her date asked.

"_Oui! _You are an idiot. I 'ave dated many stupid men, but you must be their king." After saying so, she put down her napkin and stood up from the table.

Her date stood up, too, asking cluelessly, "Where are you going?"

"I need," she paused, "some coffee."

"Wonderful. I'll meet you back at your flat. Marie did say I could come," he added with a hopeful note. "So I will see you for coffee!"

Fleur walked away muttering under her breath. He was too stupid to realize she was dumping him. If he wanted to go have coffee with her roommate Marie, she would just find a way not to be there when he was.

Then her half-formed idea came to light. She could go find Ron and have the coffee they'd originally intended to have. Fleur did not know for sure where he would be or where he lived, but she was resourceful. She used the Floo to call his brother, George Weasley.

The twin padded to the fire wearing his pajamas and his hair unkempt. His unruly appearance might have been because not only was he a business owner with responsibilities that began early in the morning, but he was also a married man with small children.

"I need to speak to your brother," she said after he'd gotten over the initial shock of her call.

He looked at her quizzically as if she'd spontaneously sprouted a third eye in the middle of her forehead. "But you... and Bill..."

"Not Bill," she quickly interrupted much to George's surprise. "I need to speak to Ronald, but I don't know where he lives."

"Why do you want him?" he asked as his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Fleur briefly considered a flippant answer before minimally supplying, "Coffee."

George would have liked to quiz Fleur more, but his youngest daughter was causing havoc that he couldn't ignore. He gave the witch the address and ended the call.

Fleur Apparated to the coffee shop and placed an order identical to what she and Ron had enjoyed only a few days previous. Then, steeling her resolve, she went to find the red-haired man.

-&-

When Fleur found the door to Ron's flat, it was late and there weren't really many noises coming from within or from the other living quarters in the building. Deciding to go ahead, she knocked on his door. She paused to listen after a few knocks, and though she hadn't heard anything, she tried one more time.

"Creevey, you wanker," she heard Ron say. "I never want you to come to my flat again!" He opened the door so quickly that Fleur's hand was still in the air as if to knock again. He had a bothered look on his face when he thought it was Colin, but Ron's expression worsened at the sight of Fleur.

"What are you doing here?" he said, his eyes narrowing in distaste. "I have had a really shitful kind of day, and I don't need you coming here making it worse."

"I brought coffee," she said, showing him two covered cups in a paperboard holder. "It is still Tuesday."

Ron leaned against his doorframe, looking at her without saying a word.

"Are you going to invite me inside?" she asked, trying to look over his shoulder.

"I'm still thinking about it," he said before turning away from the door.

Though Ron hadn't explicitly invited her inside, Fleur followed him. She looked around the one room flat quickly before having enough sense to close the door behind her.

"So…" she started, studying the tall man near her. He was just slightly taller and stockier than Bill. "Coffee?"

"Put it on the table," he grunted out and showed her the table in front of the sofa.

"This is…" she said looking around trying to find an appropriate and inoffensive word, "small."

"I'm just one man, Fleur. And by the way, how was your man?" Ron asked archly. "You know, the one from your date that you couldn't miss."

"'E was insufferable!" she spat. "I 'ope never to see 'im again!"

"I know the feeling," he said, crossing his arms in front of himself again.

She looked meek as she said, "I thought we could try coffee again. At least you are not so 'orrid."

"Oh, thank you!" he said with a loud, sarcastic voice. "I love not being so horrid. Wasn't he man enough for you, or didn't he compliment you enough?"

"Ronald," she said in a warning tone.

"I know! It's because you're so damned pretty, and don't you know it!" he sing-songed.

"I don't need this treatment from anyone," she hissed.

"I know that, too. You don't need me, Fleur. We're not friends. Not yet," he amended.

"I didn't want to go back to my flat," she declared with a growl after she paced his flat for a few seconds. "That idiot is going to be there because my roommate likes 'im and thinks 'e's 'perfect' for me."

Ron barked a laugh. "You could hex him into next week. At least you could when you were seventeen. Did you get soft and addled?"

"No, do you want me to show you?" she asked acidly, brandishing her wand.

"No," Ron sneered back at her. "You're the one who stood _me_ up. I should be hexing you!"

"You were late!" she said, stomping her foot.

"Because I have a job and an idiot for a boss! I tried telling you, but you wouldn't listen to me," he accused back at her.

"Fine!" she said as she sat down on his sofa, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Pouting will get you nowhere, my little flower," he said to her.

"I'm not going anywhere," she announced haughtily. "I'll just sleep right here."

"You do that," Ron nodded at her, though not in friendly invitation. "Let me find you a nice, soft cover. I can't have you thinking I'm inhospitable."

He found a comforter in his closet and brought it over to her. Ron then covered her up in a no-nonsense manner. It was how he often treated his nieces and nephews that refused to go to sleep. Fleur frowned at him, but he didn't feel like relinquishing his hold on his foul mood.

He stalked over to climb into his own bed a short distance away from the sofa. _"Nox!"_ he said once he was there. All the lights in the flat went out leaving them in darkness and silence.

-&-

Ron tossed and turned on his bed. He couldn't sleep because of the day he'd had. The drinking didn't help, and to make matters worse, Fleur Delacour was sleeping on his sofa mere meters away. Life couldn't get more comical he thought with a sigh.

"Are you still awake?" a voice called out.

"Yes," he said in defeat.

"_Bon_," Fleur declared as she gathered up her comforter and walked from the sofa to Ron's bed. Without waiting for an invitation she climbed on top of the bed and lay down to the right of Ron. "Now you can talk to me without yelling."

"You know, I had a bad day," he said tiredly, "and it's not like you made things any easier for me. You wouldn't even listen when I tried to tell you."

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't know to believe you."

"I'm not a liar, Fleur. I promise you that." Another sigh filled the room.

"What made it such a bad day?" she asked after another moment of silence had passed between them.

"Once I got to work, almost everything that could go wrong, did. I have a boss that wouldn't know a good article with my name on it if the thing turned into a dancing dragon. He only compliments what I write when I put this idiot's name on it."

"Who?" she asked, full of curiosity.

"Gideon Mason, the newspaper's poster boy."

"He does write good articles," Fleur started.

"No, he doesn't. The rest of us do his work for him, and he gets the glory. He's a waste of human flesh."

"Is that all?" she asked again.

Finally, Ron said, "Under the name of Gideon, I had to write an article about Harry today. I don't like it when people use me just for my connection to Potter," he admitted slowly. "I'm still the one being overlooked because of a different Glory Boy."

"It is like beauty, Ronald," Fleur announced to him. "They don't look beyond the surface of things. These people don't see the truth. They don't see anything at all."

"This is not how life is supposed to be," he protested into the darkness. "He was my best friend. So was Hermione! They didn't even invite me to their wedding!"

"Maybe they did and your owl got lost," she said in a consoling voice.

Ron ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation at the thought of his friends. "Nice try, Fleur."

He shifted himself on the bed, unable to find a comfortable position and then blew out another sigh. "Sometimes the people you think will love you forever… don't."

Even though they were in the darkness, Ron looked away from Fleur in case she might see the expression on his face. She hadn't said a word to him, but he felt her small left hand take his large right hand. She held on to him gently and did not let go. Ron kept hold of her hand as he fell into sleep.

-&-

When Ron woke up, he realized for the first time in a long time that someone else was on the bed beside him. He quickly searched his thoughts to remember, and he realized it was Fleur. As he thought of it, the French woman let out a loud snore that caused him to quickly suppress a laugh.

Ron leaned on his side and propped himself up on his elbow. In his wildest teenage fantasies, Ron had never imagined actually sleeping with Fleur. Maybe he might have imagined snogging or groping, but it would take a strong dose of Veritaserum or Cruciatus to get him to openly admit it. From his vantage, he watched her with fascination, thinking about the strange turn they've had of late.

When she finally woke up and looked at him, Ron declared wryly, "You snore. All this time I thought you were perfect, and you snore."

Fleur frowned at him. "I do not!"

"You do," he said with a confident smile that showed she could not argue against him. "I think it might have been as loud as a Muggle motorcycle. Thankfully, I know a few silencing charms, so you didn't disturb my neighbors!"

"Bill never said I snored," Fleur retorted as she sat up in bed.

Ron snorted derisively. "He's a lot nicer than I am."

Fleur made another complaint that Ron ignored. Instead he used his wand to Summon the two portable cups of coffee that Fleur had brought with her the previous evening. He whispered a warming charm and handed her one of the cups.

"_Mer_… Thank you," she said, covering up what she'd started to say in French.

He winked at her. "You can speak French to me in the morning any time!"

She laughed at him and took a drink of the coffee. So she'd spent all night at Ron's flat. It wasn't at all something she'd planned or anticipated, but it hadn't been too bad. In fact, the talk that she'd had with him had been rather pleasant. It felt like something friends did.

Ron started laughing at one of his own private thoughts, and Fleur looked at him in question. "How are you going to top this?" he asked.

"What?" she asked, mystified.

"On our first 'date' you kissed me. On our second 'date' you slept with me," he said with a wicked look. "My mother warned me about scarlet women like you!"

"Molly Weasley," Fleur breathed, "the real reason Bill and I broke up."

"Really?" he asked with his nose wrinkling in puzzlement.

"No," she said with a soft smile and a shake of her head. "But it is no secret that she did not like me."

"Right, well," Ron said as a minor change of subjects. "Maybe we should do something even more scandalous for our third meeting. That will show my mum!"

That appealed to Fleur's sense of fun immediately, so they discussed what possible activity they could do that would combine the completely innocent and the positively outrageous. Some of the ideas were so random and absurd that Ron had to set down his coffee cup because he was writhing in laughter.

"What day is it?" Fleur asked with sudden confusion, realizing that time had completely eluded her senses.

Ron smiled wide and reached to sip the last of his coffee. Then he quietly saluted her and answered, "Wednesday."

**

* * *

**

**A/N:** A huge thanks goes to both Emily and Leanne for the support and encouragement in this fic. Extra special props to Leanne who helped do the pre-posting beta read.

For any interested readers, I do have 2 more parts planned for this, though I can't promise how quickly I will be able to get to them.


	3. Friday, I'm in Love

Women's laughter is sometimes compared to the sound of tinkling bells. The particular laughing sound that Fred and George Weasley heard when a woman stumbled into their shop one bright Thursday afternoon was nothing like that at all. It was a deep belly laugh followed by a very unladylike snort. Whoever the woman was, the twins determined she was immensely enjoying herself.

The brothers looked up to see that it was Fleur Delacour with their younger brother Ron tripping into the shop behind her. The unlikely pair looked too involved in their conversation to notice the twins staring at them in open-mouthed surprise from behind the service counter. As they finished their conversation, the French witch had put her hand on his arm while he smiled down at her.

Then Ron amiably addressed his brothers by announcing, "Fred, George! Fleur and I were in the area and we wanted to pick up a few things."

"What are you planning to do?" George asked. "If it's pranks, you know we have the best supplies there are."

"Do you have itching powder?" Fleur asked. "I keep telling Ron that he needs to put that on his boss's seat."

"You keep telling him about it?" Fred asked sweetly. "Just how often do you talk to our dear brother? We haven't seen you since you broke up with Bill."

"_I_ saw her when she called me by Floo," George said self-importantly.

"Why did she call you and not me? I'm the good-looking one!" Fred said with mock indignation.

"She obviously likes _me_ better than you, though perhaps not as well as she likes ickle Ronniekins," the twin replied in a stage whisper.

When neither Fleur nor Ron rose to the bait, George had to change his tactics and discuss business. "We can get itching powder for you in bulk quantities if you need it. We could help you make an entire village itch."

"Or a whole newspaper office," Ron said.

"I want some of that," Fleur replied, reaching into her purse to wave some money at them. "I think I also want some… I'm not sure what you'd call it, but something that could make anything someone touched feel both hot and cold."

Ron looked at her askance. "What are you thinking about, Fleur?"

"You could coat the darts with the potion, or whatever it is, and then he would immediately drop them because they would be uncomfortable to touch. Then your boss wouldn't take aim at you," she said logically.

"Yes, but then he'd just get new darts," Ron replied.

She had a contemplative expression on her face before stating, "Then you need something that will make his darts floppy. No man wants floppy darts. It makes him feel less virile."

The three Weasley men didn't answer, but they all swallowed hard as they thought of wobbly phallic equipment.

"Why do you need to prank someone in your office, and why do you need Fleur's help to do it?" Fred finally asked. He was determined to find out why she was suddenly acting so chummy with their younger brother.

"I hate my job. I hate my job," Ron repeated as a mantra. "She's just trying to help me release some tension."

"By release tension, does that mean you two are…?" George asked with his tone trailing off.

"Friends, George. Something that seems in short supply lately," the younger Weasley answered while Fleur nodded her agreement. "Did you know that Harry and Hermione are getting married? They didn't even invite me to their wedding. It's good to know who my friends are and who they're not."

"Look, we got _our_ invitations. Yours probably got lost in the owl post," Fred said to try to placate him.

"I don't think so," Ron said what a shake of his head. "I've lived in the same flat for years. Barring that, they could have sent an invitation to Mum and Dad's. They just didn't want me there. They wanted everyone else _but_ me."

The twins tried to convince him that he was wrong, but he was not to be swayed. Then short hairs on the back of Ron's neck stood on end right before the door to the shop opened. He turned to look over his right shoulder and saw Harry Potter standing in the entrance.

"Speak of the devil, and he will appear," the tall Weasley said snidely.

Harry stepped into the shop, greeting Fred and George first. Then he looked at both Ron and Fleur who were standing closer together thanks to the fact that the witch had hooked her arm through his.

"I wasn't sure you'd still be here," Potter said. "How are you doing?"

"I'm all right," Ron answered stoically.

Fleur leaned closer to Ron and whispered, "I could let you use some of my itching powder on him if you need it."

The man smirked at the thought, but didn't share what she had said with the others.

"You probably have heard that Hermione and I are getting married soon. There was an article about it in the newspaper. I haven't sent you a wedding invitation yet," Harry stated. "I was hoping to see you so I could invite you in person. I thought you deserved that. I also wasn't sure you'd read any owls from us."

"That's considerate," Ron said in a way that made it sound like his actual thoughts were quite opposite of his words.

"Look, would you like to come over for supper so we can talk about it? There's no reason we can't be friends again," Harry said. "It wasn't even the first time we argued, but we always managed to bounce back."

"I don't even know if I still like you," Ron admitted. "Who are you, anyway?"

"We could start with a clean slate," Potter said as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. Then Harry finally acknowledged Fleur was standing beside his old friend. "You could bring her with you if you like."

"That's up to her," Ron said. "I wouldn't want to take one of my friends where she would feel uncomfortable."

"Ron," Fleur said, softly interrupting the conversation. "Come look at this with me. I need you to tell me how it works."

Weasley allowed himself to be pulled aside. Fleur was expertly selecting things from the shelves and talking nonsense to him about what was in front of her. Once Harry's attention was taken by a conversation with the twins, she stopped the charade.

"You should go see him," she gently urged. "I know you don't want to, but it could help. You could have your friend again."

He sighed. "I'm not sure that's a very good idea."

"I can go with you, and if it gets too horrible, we can leave. You can blame it on me," she said pragmatically. "I am also curious how Hermione turned out."

"I'm sure she's still the same know-it-all social avenger she always was," Ron said.

"But if she's changed you can put your curiosity to rest. Maybe I will bring some itching powder with me. If she ever got that in her hair, that might be funny," Fleur said, showing her mischievous streak.

The thought was odd enough to make Ron laugh. "Okay, I will tell him yes, but you've got to come with me. I'm not going to face them alone."

"_Bon_," she agreed. "Ask them what kind of wine they like. It is always good to bring the host a gift."

"While you're thinking of alcohol, make sure you get some firewhiskey," he said to her as he spun on his heel to go speak to Harry.

"We accept your invitation," Ron told him. "When do you want this meal to be?"

"Will Friday work for you? Come at eight to this address," he said as he wrote his new address on a scrap of parchment. "I'll tell Hermione to make two more settings."

"Why not four?" George asked jokingly. "We like to eat, too, you know."

"I'll tell you all about it later," Fleur placated the twin. "Or I won't. How much are the prices for the itching powder and these other items?"

Fred started ringing up the witch's purchases. Meanwhile, Harry looked at Ron as if he had more to say. He remained quiet and then slipped out of the shop as suddenly as he had come.

After Potter left, Ron asked his brothers, "Did he come in here just to talk to me? He didn't buy anything."

Fred wrapped up Fleur's purchases and said, "Actually, yes. He asked us to shoot him a super fast patronus whenever you showed up in the shop."

"Well, that's a surprise," Ron mumbled to himself. Then to Fleur he said, "Let's go get something to eat before we both have to go back to our respective hells."

"_À bientôt_!" she said with a wave to Fred and George as they walked out of the shop.

###

When the appropriate time on Friday came, Ron met Fleur at her flat. Her roommate Marie answered the door and immediately shouted over her shoulder that Delacour's boyfriend had arrived. At almost the same time both Ron and Fleur corrected the young woman that he was not her boyfriend.

"Well, you spend more time with him than you do on any dates," the woman answered. "If you're not playing hide the quaffle yet, one of you is gay."

Ron's eyes bugged at the thought of hiding the quaffle with Fleur. As a Quidditch fan, he loved any sport related innuendo, but he tried not to think of her that way. She still had that gorgeous veela hair, and the one kiss they shared had been very nice…

"Did you find out which kind of wine to bring?" Fleur interrupted Ron's thoughts as she finished putting on her earring.

"I forgot to ask," he admitted as he handed her the wrap she'd gestured for.

"I'll improvise," she said as she walked back to get her clutch.

The small purse had a charm on it to make it bigger on the inside. She had brought with her several prank items in case they would be necessary and several different bottles of wine and one firewhiskey.

"You do like to be prepared," he praised.

Once she had completed her finishing touches, the pair Apparated directly to Potter's new home. Ron stood before it, staring in open-mouthed surprise. The place could have been called Potter Palace because it was nearly as big as one. It seemed so utterly ostentatious for someone who had always claimed to be humble and want the simple things in life.

Without saying a word, Fleur took her delicately gloved finger and lightly pressed against Ron's jaw to close his mouth. When he looked at her instead of the opulent building, her eyes were twinkling with mischief.

"I don't belong in a place like that," he said.

"_You_ don't, but maybe they do. Be courageous," she said as she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. Together they walked to the front door of the mansion.

###

After Ron knocked on the massive door, Hermione opened it, looking the vision of an extravagantly dressed lady from the past who might likely throw herself melodramatically on a fainting sofa at the slightest provocation. Her naturally bushy hair was barely tamed into a bouffant style that matched the rest of her outfit perfectly.

Ron stared at his former best friend, and he couldn't get a word of greeting out of his mouth. Fleur easily took the lead to smooth over what could be an awkward silence.

"Thank you for the invitation. I have a nice rosé for you. We weren't sure what would fit the meal, so I hope this will be sufficient," she said as she handed the bottle to Hermione.

The future Mrs. Potter looked at the French witch with mild surprise. Unaware of the cause, Fleur smiled at the woman in return with the genteel grace that usually made her a winner with the males of the population. Hermione remembered her hostess manners and stopped gawking at the woman.

"Thank you," she said as she accepted the bottle. "Please come inside. We have some _hors d'oeuvre__s _in the library, and we'll be taking the meal outside on the patio."

"Thank you," Ron said, finally gathering his wits enough to respond to her. "You look lovely, Hermione."

She put her hand up to her hair and whispered a blushing, "Thank you, Ronald. Well, please come this way."

The hall Hermione was leading them through was inordinately long and reminded Ron of a corridor in an old museum. He wondered to himself if that's what this house had been before she and Harry had made it into a home of it for themselves. Beside him, Fleur conversed with Hermione as they walked together to the library.

When asked what she had done with her professional life and aspirations since graduation, Hermione easily explained that she had become a wizard lawyer. "After all Harry's troubles with the Ministry, it seemed the most appropriate thing to do. At least he'd have someone on his side to get him out of trouble when he needed it."

"I would have thought you would have continued with your other advocacy work like SPEW," Ron said, somewhat comfortable with the professional discussion.

"I have taken _pro bono_ cases where I can. There are still those who don't want the help I can provide them, even if I do have their best interest at heart," she said.

The discussion of social justice reminded Ron of something from their shared past. "Does Harry still have that house elf he inherited from Sirius?"

"No," Hermione said with a sad look on her face. "He died during the holidays last year. It was a hard blow to Harry."

"He has a very kind heart," Fleur said of Harry. She always gave the wizard the benefit of the doubt.

By that point, they had made it to the library where Harry was standing looking like a lord of the manor in a dressing jacket and holding a beverage in his hand. A cigar or pipe would not have been out of place in the tableau that Potter presented.

Upon seeing Ron and Fleur, he put down his drink and came to his old friend, grasping both his hands in his own and telling him effusively how pleased he was that he had come. Then Harry turned his attention to Miss Delacour and kissed her gloved fingers, which made her blush. Ron shot her a quick look, disbelieving that she could fall for such a ploy.

"Will you and Fleur be coming to the wedding together?" Hermione tried to ask delicately. Her curiosity was raging about the relationship that she and Ron might be sharing.

"I have not yet been invited to your wedding, Miss Granger," Ron said with a level head and an unflinching direct stare. "Fleur and I may do many things together, most of them enjoyable, but without an invitation none of those activities will include attending your upcoming nuptials."

Hermione looked at him with surprise and blurted the first thing that came to mind. "When did you learn to talk so fancy?"

"I grew up, Hermione. You missed it while you and Harry were playing lovebirds," Ron chastised.

Harry interrupted this with sincerity. "We can't fix the mistakes we've already made, but we can start new and become friends again."

"Yes, that's right," Hermione said. "A clean slate."

Weasley studied them both. They had been his best friends through his Hogwarts years and until the defeat of Voldemort. Unfortunately, they, like Fleur when he met her again, had become strangers with familiar faces. Ron glanced to the French witch whose hair shimmered as she looked mischievously in her small handbag. If things could turn out so well with Fleur, who he had not really known well when he was younger, perhaps it could be the same with his old friends. At least this time he would have no false illusions about a future with Hermione.

"Yes," Ron finally said quietly, and he let out the breath he was holding.

"Brilliant," Harry said with a huge grin. "So now we can invite you to our wedding."

Potter handed Weasley the beautiful parchment envelope with his name engraved on it in gold. When Ron opened it, a spell on the invitation proclaimed with trumpeters and flying birds the upcoming marital bliss of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. At the bottom of the invitation was a place to RSVP and indicate if he would be bringing a date with him to the wedding.

Hermione was still over-curious about Ron and Fleur's relationship, so she asked again, "Will Fleur be coming with you?"

"I don't know," Ron said as he lifted his head up from the invitation in his hands to look at Granger. "I haven't asked her yet, and I wouldn't want to assume."

"Ronald and I are not dating," Delacour said softly. She then shot a humorous look at Ron and told him, "Marie thinks we are."

"I heard her, but I don't take much stock on Marie's opinion," Ron replied with a chuckle. "She's the one who keeps setting you up on dates with idiots. I don't understand why you tolerate her meddling. All you have to do is walk into a room, and you'll get noticed. Just breathe near men, Fleur. If they like women, they will throw themselves at you."

"Like you did to her when you were fourteen?" Hermione asked as she looked at them.

"Exactly!" Ron agreed, not at all embarrassed because of it.

"What kind of wizard are you looking for?" Hermione couldn't help but ask the witch. "Maybe I could set you up on a date. I have many eligible wizards in my law practice."

"I have had beautiful men and stupid men. Many times they are the same man. I have even had a Weasley man," she said as she waggled her eyebrows. "I want a man who can make me laugh. He must have strength and courage."

Harry looked back and forth between the two of them and said as he looked at Ron, "Someone like that isn't always so hard to find."

Weasley realized what Harry was hinting at, and he stopped the conversation right there. "I know what you're trying to do, and just because you two have found love with each other does not mean you should be pairing up everyone around you. Fleur and I are friends. Respect that."

"Sometimes friends change and become something else," Hermione told him as she took Harry's hand.

"Not necessarily. Besides, I already know what she's like in bed anyway," Ron said with a teasing twinkle in his eyes.

Hermione gasped, and Fleur leaned in to Ron to threaten him with some of the itching powder she had brought if he did not behave. He laughed down at her and whispered that it was quite satisfying to see Granger jump to the wrong conclusions about them, much like his mother would.

"So if you're not with Fleur, then who are you dating?" Hermione asked. "Is there someone we could meet later?"

"No, I'm single right now," he said, feeling annoyed at the questions about his love life or lack thereof. Fleur had actually introduced him to many women she knew. A few of the dates seemed promising, but there hadn't been that key spark with any of them.

"His standards are too high," Fleur said.

Ron said something French just for her ears before saying to the whole group in English, "Unfortunately, it seems she is right, but I don't wish to talk about it."

Hermione doggedly pressed on about Ron's high standards, and his patience with her grew weary. "Do you want me to tell you that I loved you from afar for years and that no one can measure up to you? Is that what you want me to say? It would be true, but what importance is that to you now? You have Harry. Stop trying to pry into my personal life. We have only just repaired our friendship, and there are things I am not willing to discuss with you. It's as simple as that."

"I'm sorry, Ronald," Hermione said, looking surprised at his emotional maturity. He was so different than the boy who couldn't hold the depth of his emotions in a tablespoon.

"Fleur," Harry said as a distraction, "how is your sister Danielle?"

The French witch looked pleased to be asked, so she told him of her sister's success with potions. At such a young age, she was making great strides in research and creating new potions of her own. The Delacour family was pleased with her brilliant success.

"You are equally brilliant," Ron said as if annoyed with the accolades Danielle was getting.

"I may be brilliant, but I will receive no recognition for it while working at Gringotts. For goblins, it is all about treasure," she said.

"I should introduce you to Gideon Mason," Ron told her. "You could give him the veela charm."

"He wrote that wonderful article about our engagement. I normally hate newspaper articles. Harry does, too, but Mason did a great job," Hermione praised.

Ron's eyes flashed with burning anger, and Delacour diffused the situation by offering him a piece of finger food. She stated loudly enough to distract them all that she had enjoyed it very much. Ron appreciated her efforts and let himself relax.

A servant walked into the room a few minutes later to tell Potter and his guests that supper was ready to be served on the patio. Ron held his arm out to Fleur as they followed Harry and Hermione outside for the meal.

###

While they ate, conversation continued light and easy with Fleur helping run interference for Ron when topics were getting close to something that was an emotionally touchy area. She did it so smoothly that he almost hadn't noticed how well she knew him. He wondered at how easily she had learned him, and he was caught staring at her when Hermione had to ask him a question more than once.

"I said, how long have you and Fleur been seeing each other?" she asked in her exaggerated and nosy fashion.

"A few weeks," Ron said while looking back and forth between the women.

At the same time, Fleur answered smoothly, "A few months."

The unlikely pair laughed, and Weasley conceded to her that a few weeks could also be interpreted as a few months. Then Ron became somber as he thought that Harry and Hermione had become engaged to each other at nearly the same time that he and Fleur came in contact with each other again. If it had already been a few months, that was a long time to avoid him. When Fleur wanted to see him, she had been supremely resourceful and found him immediately. The same could not be said of those two.

With unspoken understanding, the French witch put her hand over Ron's and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Tell me more of the wedding plans. Will it be extravagant?" Delacour asked Hermione.

The younger witch began telling her all about the plans from the location to the people involved in the wedding party. She then began to expound in detail about the decorations and food menu. She was so exacting and organized that Ron's head was spinning just listening to it. He shot a conspiratorial look to Harry to see if he felt the same thing. Potter acknowledged the force of nature that was Hermione Granger with a project, but he also seemed pleased with it.

Ron shook his head and looked down into his dessert. Fleur took that opportunity to tease him.

"And you wanted to marry her?" she whispered as she put her hand on his arm.

He smiled devilishly wide at her and asked aloud for the benefit of the others at the table, "Miss Delacour, surely you've thought of your wedding before. What types of things do you want to have when you get married?"

She gave him one of those looks that showed he was going to pay for that later. Then she answered the question. She said her family had a small mountain villa near a lake, and she had always dreamed of a small intimate ceremony there with family and a few close friends. It would be the very model of simple elegance.

"That sounds so French," Ron said.

"What do you know of France? You have traveled much, but you have not been there. I should bring you with me sometime," she said so casually that it didn't surprise Ron. It did seem peculiar to Harry and Hermione who were realizing again how close the two had become.

###

Once the meal was over and conversation was wrapped up, Harry spoke to Ron again how grateful he was to have his best mate back. He endeavored to spend more time together doing things with him. He also reminded him that there was going to be a pre-wedding rehearsal dinner.

"I would like you to come to that, and please feel free to bring Fleur with you if she's your chosen date," Potter said sounding super formal. "Just come. I could make you one of my groomsmen."

Weasley looked at him directly, "Harry, mate, I don't need to be one of your groomsmen. I want to be friends again, but that would be too much too soon. Maybe I will say a toast for you at the reception afterward."

The four said their parting remarks to each other, and then Ron and Fleur walked out the door to the street where they would Apparate away from the Potter mansion. On mutual agreement, they went to Fleur's flat first. A quick look around showed Marie to be completely gone.

The French witch pulled the itching powder out of her purse and handed it to Ron. "It seems I did not have to use this after all."

He turned it over in his fingers contemplatively and replied, "Save it for the wedding ceremony. There will be more people to terrorize then."

Fleur looked at him and then tousled his red hair as she walked to her bedroom where she changed her clothes. She emerged from her room a moment later to find Ron still sitting on the bar stool turning the can of powder over and over in his hands.

Taking the itching powder gently from his fingers, she sat down on a low chair in front of him and asked, "What's wrong, Ronald?"

"I had a nice time," he admitted. "It felt odd somehow. Maybe I've been too angry too long."

She reached out her hand and entwined her fingers with his. Offering a soft smile, Fleur said, "Thank you for your honesty."

"Does it ever bother you that people keep assuming we are dating? If I wanted to be around people who would drop hints like that, I would invite you to a family meal. Then my mother could quiz you and tell you embarrassing things about me," he said. Ron was clearly in a contemplative mood.

"No, it doesn't bother me," she said softly with a tired smile.

That smile from Fleur Delacour was one that Ron realized she did not show very often. She was usually all polish and veela charm. He liked that insight into her when she let down the shield of her "mystique."

"Miss Delacour, will you do me the honor of being my date to the wedding of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger?" Ron asked as he stood.

Fleur mimed a fake yawn as if the very idea would be boring. Then she relented with a wicked smile and said, "I reserve the right to bring itching powder with me and to claim my innocence of any wrongdoing when the day is over."

"I would expect no less," he said smiling down at her.

Impulsively, Ron leaned down and kissed the top of Fleur's silvery head. Then he let himself out of her flat and Apparated home to his own.

* * *

**A/N**: Yes, I got the title from The Cure. It was the only thing that came to mind.

Thanks to many people who read and liked this story and gave me feedback encouraging me to write the other parts. A special shout-out goes to **Marvey4** who helped beta read some of this over Christmas. Any mistakes that remain are my own.


	4. Ron and Fleur at the Potter Wedding

Fleur sat in the park enjoying her lunch by herself and reading the letter that had accompanied the package she had received from France. Her mother had been sure to include a few of the croissants from her favorite bakery back home. She smiled softly as she read the letter, missing the people she loved at home and wondering again what she was still doing in England.

All the people she loved were back in France, and she had achieved her goal of improving her English. There were only rare occasions when her accent would slip. It was usually when she was doing something with Ron. He just had a way about him that made her relax and let down her defenses.

Sometimes, she had even found herself talking to him in French when she was really tired. The first few times he had teased her about it, but then he had quietly and confidently started learning the language on his own.

Fleur missed her family, and the discussion of weddings with Harry and Hermione made her romantic nature come out. She wanted those things for herself, too. She wanted the man who could charm her and make her laugh and was clever enough to keep up with her most mischievous schemes. He had to challenge her and not be a victim to her charms. That man would only end up earning her contempt because of his weakness.

Perhaps the wizard for her was not to be found in England. She could ask for a transfer to the Gringotts branch in Paris. It would be a something she could consider after the Potter-Granger wedding.

Fleur folded the letter to put into her bag and subtly wiped the corners of her mouth in case there were any croissant crumbs. Her silvery hair fell down around her shoulders as she did, draping her in a shimmering glow.

"I've always thought you looked beautiful with your hair down like that," an unexpected male voice said to her.

Fleur snapped her head up to see Bill Weasley still looking like the rock star he had seemed to be when she was seventeen. He was aging, though, and the years of working with curses were beginning to take their toll on him. Even so, he still retained the confidence that had made him one of the most attractive men she had ever met.

"Hello, Bill," she said with slowly measured words. "I have not seen you in a long time."

"No, not since the war really started to get crazy," he acknowledged before he sat down beside her on the bench. "At least, that was the last time we talked to each other. I see the lingering glow of your hair sometimes when I enter places in Gringotts where you have just been."

Fleur couldn't fathom why he had suddenly sought her out this afternoon, but then she remembered he was Ron's brother. This was likely more about the younger Weasley than anything she had done to earn Bill's attention.

"I have heard through the grapevine that you'll be coming to Harry and Hermione's wedding. Is it true that you'll be Ron's date?" he asked.

"Your grapevine didn't tell you that as well?" she asked suspiciously.

"I would rather hear it from you, so here I am. Are you going as Ron's date?" Bill asked.

"I am," she said with a small nod, though she did not take her eyes off his face.

He cleared his throat as he tried to word his question. "Are you and he an item? It would be really strange to be passed on for my brother, Fleur."

She smiled softly, but it wasn't for his benefit. She remembered her year at Hogwarts. "As a point of fact, he asked me out before you and I ever dated. So it is perhaps you who should apologize to him!"

He looked sideways at her in shocked disbelief. "Do you love him?"

Bill's question and tone surprised her. She felt the letter still in her hand, and then she thought of Ron and her family in France.

"I do," Fleur said softly, almost with the tone of surprise.

Deciding to end the conversation with Bill, the woman stood up and excused herself from the park. Her head was full of other thoughts, primarily wondering how it could be that her friendship with the younger Weasley brother had become so dear to her.

* * *

Fleur stayed brooding about her situation, the thoughts of England and France all tangled together. She enjoyed being independent. It was part of her nature. She wouldn't have chosen to become a Tri-Wizard champion had she not believed in herself. Whatever funk she was in, Delacour decided that she needed to get out of it immediately.

"Marie," she called out to her roommate who was making kissy faces with her latest acquisition. "Do you still remember the last you tried to set up for me? Would he be interested in a date?"

The woman stopped enough to look at Fleur in surprise. "You're asking this time? What is wrong with you! I thought when you found your ginger boy that you didn't date any more."

"I 'ave no ginger boy," she snapped in annoyance.

"You could have fooled me with the way you two act together," Marie said before giving Fleur another wizard's contact information.

After throwing some powder into the Floo, Fleur finally made a connection to the man who somehow knew Marie. This one was named Lucas.

"Allo," she said as she tried to be charming. "My roommate Marie tells me about you. Would you like to have coffee with me?"

Lucas was a nice looking man for one who worked in an office. Delacour could see that he had never really been very athletic, but he was okay. His blond hair was thinning, but the look in his brown eyes made him seem young enough.

"I prefer tea, but I'd be willing to give coffee a try," he said in an egalitarian way.

"Very good! Let's try meeting tomorrow afternoon, shall we?" Fleur declared before giving him the address to the Muggle coffee shop she and Ron liked to visit.

After the arrangements for the date were made, she felt much better. She put on a light covering over her robes and took a walk through the night to clear her head. Life had suddenly improved.

* * *

On his side of town Ron Weasley was playing poker with Harry, Fred and George. The twins were consummate cheaters, but he knew most of their tricks so as not to be fooled by them. The others who had joined their game were suffering worse for the wear.

Ron was caressing his stack of coins when Bill arrived. A few of the males gave a cheer when he walked in as if he was the conquering hero, and he acknowledged it quickly before sitting backwards on a high-backed chair.

"Well, this could be your stag party, Harry. You will be having one, no doubt," Bill said as he gave a big grin.

"Of course, he is!" Fred insisted. "We're going to get him properly pissed and make him do things he'll never remember."

"Never want to, either," George said as he thought of his own bachelor party.

Bill was a very subtle man most of the time, but this time he dispensed with it to speak to his youngest brother. "I spoke to Fleur today at lunch. How long have you two been dating?"

Ron looked at him coolly, as if the invasive question did not bother him in the slightest. "We aren't dating."

"You should know this one has girls for friends," George said in his brother's defense.

Harry looked slightly annoyed by that line of discussion, and Bill saw asked, "What is it?"

Potter looked guiltily at Ron and then back to the oldest Weasley sibling. "I don't know if Ron _can_ be friends with a woman."

The raw honesty of the statement made all the men quiet for a moment. Ron remained perfectly calm and composed on the outside while seething on the inside. He pointed out that his relationship with Fleur was no one else's business.

"That's pretty much what she said," Bill told him. After a long moment of studying Ron, he confessed, "I just don't like it."

"Of course not," Fred interjected. "When you're good looking, like me, you want to be the one love of someone's life. With me, it's easy. I am that good-looking. With you lot, it's a challenge."

"Let's get our minds back on poker," Ron said with a sigh as he tried to change the subject. "Some of you still have money you haven't given me yet."

It was enough of a diversion to make the men go back to their game.

Much later when the game was over, Harry and several of the Weasley brothers were quite inebriated. Ron left their company feeling like he had a weight on his shoulder. He wasn't drunk, but he wished he was so he could let go of the feeling he had for a while.

One person he did not want to see was Fleur Delacour of the silvery hair and enchanting smile. Yet she was the only one he felt could give him any peace. It was too late because they both worked in the morning.

When he returned to his flat, he wrote his small note to Fleur asking her if she would like to have coffee with him at their regular place and set it on the table so he would remember to send the owl in the morning. Then Ron crawled into his lonely bed thinking that there had to be more to life than this.

* * *

Jack Farnham was on a vicious tear again when Ron got to the newspaper office the next morning. He stared at his boss's darts and remembered Fleur's idea to make the small implements so that they could not fly. It gave him a chuckle as he put his head back into the article he was writing, a guest column for the sports reporter. He enjoyed writing about Quidditch whenever he had the chance, though he tried not to show his bias toward the Chudley Cannons in his articles.

In the late afternoon an owl from Fleur came to Ron, and he stopped his writing to read what she had sent him. The content of her message was that she couldn't do coffee with him this afternoon because she had scheduled a date with someone else. He put the paper on his desk and thought that this was a replay of their first coffee date. He sighed about the rut his life was in and tried to put this temporary disappointment away.

He put his mind back to his work and did some more writing for the society section of the paper. This was Jack's version of torture for Ron since he didn't enjoy writing that as much as he did the sports articles. The one that he had before him was from some rich pureblood family with a big wedding anniversary. The couple in question was beaming and proclaiming their longstanding love for each other. In one of the quotes he had gathered for the writing, they were saying how they had been each others' best friends, and that's what had made the relationship work so long. Ron doubted the authenticity of the statement, but it still struck a nerve.

He had fallen in love with his best friend once and gotten burned. He had to admit even if only to himself that he was falling for Fleur, too. He was turning out to be just like Harry had said he was, and Ron found that annoying.

Oddly, Ron realized he wanted to talk to about it all with his mother. His parents had the solid type of marriage he could aspire to one day. Speaking honestly about such things with her would be embarrassing at best, but he realized he was going to try. He quickly wrote her an owl to tell her he wanted to visit after his work was done.

* * *

Mrs. Weasley had tea and scones waiting for Ron when he came to visit. He ducked his head when he walked in the door and seemed to be blushing when he sat down. The woman was a whirlwind around him as she got things ready, and Ron remembered, too, that she'd always been like this.

"Is Dad still at the ministry?" he asked.

"Yes, dear. He sent an owl that he would be late, so it's just you and I right now. It was lovely of you to want to spend time with me," she finally said as she sat down.

"I need some advice," Ron admitted.

Molly chuckled. "I had thought as much. Grown sons don't come see their mothers as much as we would like. So it had to be something on your mind."

"I made up with Harry and Hermione. I'll be going to their wedding. That's some of the news that's happening with me," he said with a slow sip of tea.

"I always thought she was a scarlet woman," Molly muttered before saying much nicer platitudes.

"Mum, I think… I think I've fallen for someone. I'm not sure what to do about it. I could rush in and tell her, but what if she doesn't feel the same way about me? How can you know? I've obviously not had very good luck with women so far," he said before hiding his face behind the tea cup again.

Mrs. Weasley was unusually silent. "You won't know for sure until you try. Sometimes you just have to be direct. Men are dense, but women are, too. Sometimes she has to be shown what's right in front of her."

Ron nodded. "But is there anything that would let me know she's likely to find interest in me. I don't know if she likes me as a friend or if I have a chance of more."

"She knows. It's a little womanly trick, but she's usually already decided what she thinks of you. There are very rarely cases where a woman doesn't know," she said.

"I'm just afraid of ruining what we've got. If I try to make a move, maybe the friendship we've got goes away," he said while running his fingers through his hair. "I would really miss that."

Molly reached to take her son's hand in comfort. "Just be honest. If the friendship doesn't survive the honesty, maybe you weren't meant to be friends."

"Harry doesn't think I can be friends with a woman. I wanted to punch him in the teeth when he said it," Ron confessed.

"Of course, he said that. He knows you loved Hermione and probably still do. As a friend. But I know something he doesn't," she said with a taunt.

"What's that?" he prompted.

"In the best relationships, you can have romantic love with your best friend. That's not just a made up story. It's how I feel about your father," she said.

Silence passed while Ron thought about what she had told him. Finally, he said, "Thanks, mum."

"You're welcome. When she agrees that she loves you back, come back and let me know. We'll have more tea. A mother could get used to this," Molly said with an indulgent smile.

"I don't know that she returns the feelings," he said derisively.

"If it's Miss Delacour," she said, taking a posh tone to her voice, "she most certainly cares about you. I don't know how deeply, but she obviously cares. Try, Ron. You have nothing to loose."

"So it's just as easy as that?" he asked incredulously.

"Try it and see," she said.

He thought of her advice while they finished their tea date together. He caught her up on his writing and some plans to come home for a big family gathering during the holidays. Upon leaving, he kissed his mother's cheek and went back to his small flat in London.

* * *

In Muggle London around the same time that Ron was having tea with Molly, Fleur was having her date with Lucas. He was a perfectly pleasant man, and she was enjoying his company. There was nothing wrong about him at all, and she was trying to give him a chance. He couldn't help it that he wasn't Ronald Weasley.

"I hope we could meet again sometime. Please forgive me if that's too forward," he said cautiously.

"I think we can do that. Thank you for coming on this date. Marie was kind to find you. She says I am too picky," Fleur admitted.

"I can't get over how good your English is," he enthused while looking at her with a slightly glazed look in his eyes.

She shot him a sidelong look of incredulity. He had that expression that men usually got when they were caught in her mystique.

"I have worked very hard to make my English sound beautiful," she told him.

Lucas asked for another date during the time that she and Ron would be going to Harry and Hermione's wedding. She declined and tried not to make too much fuss about who was taking her.

"He's a longtime friend of both the bride and groom," she said lightly.

"That must be nice. Are you two serious? Do I have some competition?" Lucas asked, hopeful that the opposite might be the case.

"We're not like that with each other," she said, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She tried to hide it with joviality. "So there is still time for you, _mon cher_."

"Well, then. Don't get swept off your feet at that wedding. I'm still looking forward to a date when it's all over," he said as his last request before their coffee ended.

* * *

Fleur spent many more days leading up to Harry and Hermione's wedding on her own. She was enjoying being by herself and having the value of the person she was instead of merely being half of a couple. She hadn't done anything with Ron, but he hadn't sought her out, either. She could see by the newspapers that he was diligently working. She had learned to spot Ron's writing even when his work was being used to give someone else a byline.

Finally, the night before they were to go to Harry's wedding, when the wizarding world was speculating on what might be the most romantic wedding ever, she went to Ron's small flat and knocked on his door. When he came, he was wearing his Chudley Cannons pajama bottoms, and his hair was in complete disarray. She found the sight of him endearing.

Ron looked at her in surprise before inviting her inside. "I haven't seen you for a few weeks. Are you okay?"

"I am," she said as she sat down on his sofa. She had been visiting him so many times in the last few months that she didn't have to stop to think about feeling out of place. She was with Ron, and she liked being with him.

Fleur looked up at him, "The wedding is tomorrow. I didn't know what time you'd get me or if we'd go separately. I decided to see you to talk about it."

Ron sat down beside her and stared into the distance instead of looking at her. He tried smoothing down his hair a few times, but it kept popping back up. She laughed and reached over to help him, brushing her fingers along his in the process. He turned to face her, but before he could speak, Ron sighed.

He sighed that he could have feelings for this woman, feelings that were true and more than the boyhood crush he had. The crush had been based on some ideal of what the perfect girl should be. The Fleur beside him on his sofa was neither perfect nor a girl. She was a woman with faults that made her all the more interesting because of them.

He _liked_ her. He really did. He might have thought he loved his past girlfriends, but Ron realized he had never really liked them as people. This was probably what his mother had meant.

"What's wrong, Ronald?" she asked as she took her hands away from his wild hair.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about various things. My head is full," he said.

"Do you need a pensieve?" she asked with a soft smile.

"Maybe. I don't know if it would help," he answered.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking, too," Fleur said. "I have gone on a few dates with this new man Marie found for me. He seems nice."

"Nice is… nice," he said.

"Yeah, it is. But there's a problem," she said.

"What's that?" he asked, playing his part in the dialogue.

Fleur looked at him with his wild red hair and electric blue eyes. Though he was dressed plainly, she realized that he had become lovely in her eyes. His was the face she looked forward to seeing most, even if she had taken time away from him for a while. Instead of speaking words, Fleur sat up and leaned forward to put a soft kiss on his lips. It obviously surprised him because Ron stiffened when she did it.

"Um…" he murmured before he could put a coherent sentence together. Then he realized that _she_ had kissed _him_. She had feelings for him, too.

"I guess that could be a problem," he finally said.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's more of a problem than I thought, especially if…" her voice trailed off and she looked down. Then Fleur mentally kicked herself for playing the weak and shy card. She knew Ron hated that.

"Fleur, you are one of the best friends I have ever had," Ron started with deliberate slowness. "I love you, you know? I think the friendship I have with you is the one good thing I have lately. I don't want to mess that up, and you've seen how I've really messed it up in the past."

Fleur searched his expression because she wasn't sure if these were the soft words leading up to a rejection.

Ron went on bravely, unaware of the thoughts in her head. "I think I need to be honest enough to say that lately I've been thinking about you in a way that isn't just as a friend. It would be really nice if you felt the same way, too, but if you don't, I'll have to pick myself up and move on."

"What does that mean?" she said the confusion showing on her face.

"You kissed me. I don't think it was a pity kiss," he said as he looked around his surroundings. "Or maybe it was. But what do you want?"

"I want to be your friend," she said firmly. "And maybe more."

Ron watched as Fleur took his hand in hers and looked into his eyes. It was such a sweet, accepting gesture that he could only smile at her.

"I think we fit really well together, don't you?" he asked with a smile.

"Yes, I do. So maybe I need to cancel any future dates with Lucas, though he is really nice," she offered.

"Well, that's the polite thing to do, isn't it?" he answered with a huge grin. Ron felt his heart racing as he realized what this meant for the two of them.

Fleur looked really pleased with the turn of events. She stood up from his sofa and turned around to face him. Then she leaned forward to straddle him where he sat while she kissed his face. It was many hot moments later before she pulled away.

She righted her clothing before reminding Ron of the time to pick her up. Then she Apparated away from his flat with a pop.

* * *

Ron was a nervous wreck when he was getting himself dressed in the morning. He was calm about Harry and Hermione's wedding, thankfully. His nervousness was all about Fleur and their decision to become more than friends. He realized he was going to be permanently distracted all day, and he hoped he wouldn't be obvious.

Ron reached for his best simple and suave dress robes. He looked at his reflection, and after deciding there was nothing he could do to improve his lot, he Apparated to Fleur's flat.

He knocked lightly on the door, and he expected Marie to open the door or shout to let him inside. Instead, Fleur was at the door, giggling with laughter. She fell out of the doorway into his arms, and they both crumpled to the ground. She quickly put her arms around his neck as they kissed each other good morning.

"I'll have to refresh my make up," she said after they stopped for a breath. She had a light in her eyes that he saw only when she was making mischief with him.

"Oh, but it was worth it," Ron declared with a satisfied sigh.

"Are you two going to come in, or are you going to fornicate right there in the hallway where everyone can see you?" Marie asked them crossly.

"Fornicate? Since when do you use big words?" Ron teased her as he came inside their flat.

"Since you two are apparently 'together.'" Marie glared at him as if she thought it was distasteful, and then she said, "I thought you two were dating all along. She denied it. You denied it. But now you are, and I can't stand it."

"I thought you'd be happy to be right for once," Ron deadpanned while his eyes sought out Fleur who had quickly returned from touching up her face.

"Milady," he said with a bow before offering her his arm.

Fleur curtsied back to him, and put her hand to his arm before she said her goodbyes to Marie.

"Have fun at the wedding. Don't do anything too romantic," she warned.

"Nice girl," Ron said once they were on the other side of the door. "I think she's just sore that none of her matches worked out for you."

* * *

Ron and Fleur arrived to Harry and Hermione's wedding ceremony, and all the witches and wizards who were anybody were there. One of them was Gideon Mason who had to make an appearance since he was the big name reporter of note. This was a relief for Ron who delightfully let him do the job he was actually supposed to do.

The pair took seats near the other members of the Weasley family. Fleur and Bill managed to nod at each other civilly while Fred and George greeted her more amiably. Since she had become close to Ron, she had been a regular patron of their shop.

Harry stood at the altar looking awkward and nervous while his groomsmen, people Ron didn't know, tried to look supportive around him. Hermione's matrons and maids of honor looked lovely on their side of the altar with some making suggestive faces at their groomsmen. Molly noticed and seemed scandalized, saying as much to her husband.

Ron was unmoved by all around him because he was still feeling the shock of being in a brand new relationship with Fleur. It was a good match, however strange, and the newness and rightness of it all made him feel invincible. So when Hermione came up the aisle looking more beautiful than she ever had, even when she had gotten her Yule Ball makeover, the pain of her loss didn't hurt Ron at all.

After the vows were exchanged and the new Potters were introduced to the wizarding world, the party began in earnest. Plentiful refreshments were on the tables surrounding the dance floor. The Potters did their first dance as man and wife before splitting up to dance with and give regards to the guests in attendance.

"Dance with me?" Ron asked Fleur as he held his hand out to her.

"I don't think so," she said with a devilish laugh. When he looked at her, her eyes were gleaming with trouble.

"You are so bad!" he teased.

"I am," she agreed as she took his hand for dancing.

They got one dance with each other wherein Ron got to hold her close and feel that all was right in his world. His family could think what they want. He wasn't going to discuss Fleur with them right now or how things had changed between them. They probably already suspected it because they had been asking loaded questions before the pair had been ready to see it for themselves.

"We should go see Harry and Hermione," Fleur said when the song ended.

"Yes, let's," Ron said as the walked over to them.

Fleur smiled at Hermione and told her what a beautiful bride she had made. Beside her, Ron made noises of agreement. Fleur then took her chance to dance with Harry while Ron asked Hermione to dance with him.

As they smoothly moved around the floor, Ron said, "You look so happy."

"I am," Hermione said and then looked at him. "I'm really sorry we spent so much time not talking to each other, but I'm glad you're here now."

"I am, too. I guess it's what they say about time healing all wounds. I am happy for you and Harry," he said sincerely.

"Maybe you'll find someone, too," Hermione said.

"I might," he agreed without detail.

When the dance was over, Ron and Fleur separated from Hermione and Harry, but new people came to take their places with the bride and groom. So he took her fingers and lightly walked across the floor past where Bill was talking to his date. When the oldest Weasley brother saw them, he focused his attention on his brother. He put his arm around Ron's neck and pulled him off to a corner where some of the family were making mischief.

"What do you want, Bill?" Ron asked.

"So, is there anything going on with you and Fleur?" he asked.

Ron smiled slowly at him. "You know we're just friends. She couldn't really want another Weasley after having you."

"Mum seems to think you're together now," Bill said.

"It's a wedding and romance is in the air," Ron said patiently. "I wouldn't worry about it. Go take care of your own date so you can give our mum something to really talk about."

Ron patted Bill on the shoulder and then glided back into the crowd to where Fleur was. In his absence, men had surrounded her, trying to flirt and get her attention. Ron realized that life with her would be like that. Men would always crowd around her and want a piece of her, but she wanted _him_. The beauty of that made him feel humbled. Let her have her admirers. None of them would be going home with her.

When she realized he was looking at her, Fleur smiled at Ron with one of those veela smiles that could bring a man to his knees. She walked over to him while her admirers trailed her like puppies.

Ron nodded to the men behind her. "Save the last dance for me?"

She looked at him with a soft expression and then come close enough to stand on her toes to give him a soft kiss. Ron wrapped his arms around her back and returned Fleur's kiss. It wasn't an obnoxious spectacle, but it was a quiet announcement of their involvement with each other.

* * *

Later, Fleur went home with Ron and ended up staying for their first clothing-optional after-party. She laughed, and he felt shell-shocked. It was awkward as only something like that could be, but it was satisfying enough for them to cuddle in the afterglow. Ron could barely speak a word.

"Thank you," he finally gasped.

Fleur laughed. "You mean for the… trick? I can do it again."

"No! Well, yes, actually. But I mean, I'm really glad I ran into you at the coffee shop that day. I would never have predicted this. Us!" he quickly corrected.

"Me, neither," she agreed. "But it's good, yes?"

"Yes," he said while holding her close.

Fleur smiled softly into his chest and felt the satisfaction that they weren't vaguely familiar strangers any more as they had been on that day so many months ago. She was now with the man who was her dearest and most loved friend, and somehow all outcomes from here seemed glorious.

"We'll have to go back there again soon," she said as she rose up above him to give him a kiss.

"Agreed," Ron said, speaking against her lips, "but not before you show me that trick again."

Fleur practically purred at the suggestion and then did exactly that.

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks so much for reading and supporting my story. I hope you few dedicated readers find this conclusion satisfactory.


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